Tag: Bars

  • A Night of Theatre and Being Out

    Last night, I went to see my friends in a puppet show. It was titled SORRY ABOUT THE WEATHER and was performed at HERE, as part of their PUPPETOPIA puppet fest. I loved the show, but my view might be a little biased. Sure, it was a puppet show, I love puppet shows, and it was created and performed by my friends. The subject of the piece is about a woman with dementia, and is an “interpretation of what is in her weather mind.” It’s also about losing a loved one to a disease, which struck a deep chord with me. I found myself reliving the feelings I had during that week in hospice, slowly watching my mother slip away in a haze of painkillers, only to become a husk of a vital person that she was. It made me admit again that there are issues of her passing that I still need to uncover and unpack.

    After the show, I got to see my friends and talk to them briefly. The last time I saw them was back in September 2018 when we did a puppet show together, and I missed being in their presence. It was a nice chance to have a hug, and say it was nice to see you, and to have contact again with people. For such a bittersweet melancholy show, it was a nice that I got to visit with them, and have an honest fulfilling smile as I made my way out of the theatre.

    And this was an evening for me. The wife and the kid were having a mother/daughter night, so dad could go out, and have a break. So, I walked up Hudson Street with this crazy idea that I would go to The White Horse Tavern, as it was a writer’s hang out, and good ol’ Jack Kerouac got kicked out of the joint so often that it was a joke to tell him to go home. But what I thought would be a low-key Wednesday night turned out to be a very happening night in the West Village. All the restaurants were full, as were the bars, and there was no room at the tavern for me.

    But, it didn’t bother me, as I was happy to be out in the City again. Sure, I was in a rich, swanky part of the City, and not exactly my crowd, yet there were people out and walking and talking and it was good to see, or I guess, remind myself of what I liked about the City. It was a pleasant not too warm Spring evening, with conversations floating around and bumping into each other, not unlike the people standing and waiting to get a table or seat at the joint they were in front of.

    What I did was make my way back to the subway, and headed for Harlem. I knew that the chance of me getting seat at one of my local bars was better. And I was right. I was able to camp at a corner seat, so I could watch the Mav’s get crushed by Golden State, and I could also hear a guy complain about his job to the bartender. I had my beer and a bourbon neat, and the windows were open in the place, so the sounds of the City could come in. A nice reminder why I like living in this place.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Writing in Public; A Personal History

    My current office is a public library in Harlem. I come in the afternoon, and this is where I do some of my writing. I can get some work done in the morning, and usually that is when I blog. After lunch, I head out to the library to work on everything else. This situation works well, especially for my wife who works from home. When I head out, that gives her the afternoon alone in the apartment so she can focus and get her work done, as well.

    I like my local library. It’s not too big, and is never too crowed either. I can find a space to work, listen to my music, and outside of one guy who clearly is some sort of remote IT specialist which requires him to speak on his phone to clients, it’s rather quite here. (Though I did witness two old guys almost get into an old man fight over who could sit at what table.) There is something nice about being surrounded by books.

    I am not the brilliant one who came up with this idea of using the library. It was my wife who suggested that I use the library to work. And she got the idea from our good friend who uses her local library as the place where she writes. I was hesitant at first to do it, but I now admit that was a mistake. I have been rather productive, at least word count wise.

    Writing in public is something that I have tried doing, on and off, since high school. Back then, there was a local all-night coffee shop/diner that I could camp at. After high school and in college, I would camp at a local IHOP, and that ended up becoming a hang out with all my friends. Then I turned twenty-one, and started hanging out in bars, which I didn’t write in, as that’s not why you go to a bar.

    Then I moved to NYC, and made friends, and one of them owned a bar in Manhattan which I would visit. Trying an effort to be a supportive friend, I would always suggest his bar to other friends as a good place to meet up for a drink. On occasions that I would get to the bar early, and would be waiting on my friends to arrive, I would pull out my journal, and write at the bar to kill time.

    I actually felt very comfortable doing it, and soon I started just going to that bar to write in my journal alone. The bar was shaped like an “L” and I would sit at the short part next to the wall, so I could watch the goings on of the long part bar. The staff got to know me, I am sure because I was friends with the owner, and we would converse, but then they would give me some space to work.

    Sadly, the pandemic closed down his bar, and I really haven’t been able to find a good replacement.